


Our Love Was Made for Movie Screens

by dettiot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:39:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3528020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dettiot/pseuds/dettiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of movie AU ficlets featuring Oliver and Felicity.  Part of my <a href="http://dettiot.tumblr.com/post/111999087932/olicity-movie-au-challenge">Olicity Movie AU Challenge</a> on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Love Was Made for Movie Screens

**Author's Note:**

> If I wasn’t already going to hell, this ficlet would probably do the trick. This is inspired by the Castle Anthrax scene of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I hope you enjoy all the comedic blasphemy!

Sir Oliver the Pure rode hard through the rolling countryside, his noble servant by his side and only the thought of his quest in his mind. For Sir Oliver, like the rest of King Arthur’s knights, had a sacred task to guide his actions: finding the Holy Grail. 

“Sir!” His servant Roy cried out, pointing ahead of them. “Do you see yon beacon?”

He drew up short, looking in the direction that Roy was pointing. “I do,” Sir Oliver said, feeling his breath leave his body. “‘Tis like the Grail, is it not?” 

“It is,” Roy agreed, looking at him. “What shall we do?” 

“We have but one option, Roy--ride to yonder castle and demand that they reveal if they have the Grail,” Sir Oliver said. 

“Aye, sir,” Roy said, following Sir Oliver as they approached the dilapidated-looking castle. 

They entered the castle keep unmolested and unnoticed. Sir Oliver swept his eyes over the inner courtyard, feeling an itch on the back of his neck. His hand drifted towards his sword, then twitched his bow from one hand to the other. He did not like the looks of this. Because if the castle was as deserted as it looked, who had lit the Grail beacon? 

Striding boldly forward, Sir Oliver banged on the doors into the castle. “Open! In the name of King Arthur, I command you open the door!” 

The sound of rusty bolts turning halted Sir Oliver’s fist and he stepped back. But when the door opened, he felt his eyes go wide. 

Sir Oliver was known as the Pure and the Chaste for several reasons. Originally it had been a mocking title, as before he had seen the error of his ways, he was known for deflowering several virginal pure maidens, in some cases making the lady yield her crown of olive leaves on the very day of marriage. Yet now, his title was meant honestly. He had dedicated his life to the search for the Holy Grail, remaking his body into a holy vessel, cleansing himself of any desire for fleshy delights. He had solemnly vowed that the only reward he sought was that of heaven. 

Yet his vow was being tested--extremely--by the maiden before him. 

A gauzy white headdress could not fully conceal the shining brightness of her hair, the color of the sun at midsummer. The headdress also drew attention to the utter perfection of her face: pale skin, rounded cheeks, and full pink lips. But most captivating were her eyes: a deep, pure blue, putting Sir Oliver in mind of a crystal-clear lake. 

Although if he was truthful, he would have to admit that her form, all curves as outlined by her clinging white gown, was equally captivating. 

For the first time in years, he felt his body react to the presence of a female. But he had his quest, so Sir Oliver metaphorically beat himself into submission. There had been no literal beating for years. 

“Forgive us, my lady, for disturbing you,” Sir Oliver began, only for the young maiden to bestow a truly beaming smile on him. 

“‘Tis no disturbance, my lord knight--for you are a knight, yes? Your armor does speak to one who is well-acquainted with the martial arts, one who has studied the art of war and has earned his spurs, yes? It is very fine armor, sir knight, very well-made for your shape--it outlines everything most attractively--oh, I have said too much,” she said, her cheeks staining crimson as she bit her lower lip. 

Sir Oliver stared at her, feeling his body once again rise to attention. It was a matter his armor was not designed to accept, which did help with keeping his control. Clearing his throat, he bowed slightly. “I am Sir Oliver the Chaste, and this is my servant, Roy. We were riding through the countryside and saw your beacon was alight.” 

“Our beacon?” the maiden said curiously, before her eyes went wide. “Oh, yes, our beacon! Oh, Sir Oliver, please come and we shall discuss this matter further.” 

She turned around quickly, her skirts swishing around herself and revealing that her curves were even more distracting, provoking an elemental heat to sweep through Sir Oliver. 

Roy let out a soft whistle. Sir Oliver shot him a chastising look and then followed the lady. “Might I ask your name, fair maiden?” he said, hoping that conversation would help him keep his mind off her body and his own. 

“Oh! Do excuse me, we so rarely receive visitors here at Castle Anthrax. I am called Felicity.” 

“A most pleasing name,” Sir Oliver said, feeling his lips quirk in a smile. “And apt. For it means ‘happiness’, does it not?” 

Her cheeks once again went pink and Sir Oliver found himself wondering if her blush extended past her cheeks. Giving his head a shake, he held his tongue as Lady Felicity swept into a great hall. 

Sir Oliver blinked as he saw who filled the echoing chamber. 

Women. Women of every shape and size, none looking older than one and twenty. Every shade of hair and eye color were represented, and all the ladies were dressed in white. 

Good God, had he stumbled upon a convent of the most attractive nuns in all of Christendom? 

Beside him, Roy was goggling at what he saw. “Am I dead? This must be Heaven,” he said softly. 

“Silence,” Sir Oliver hissed. “They are not harlots for your easy pleasure.” 

Lady Felicity turned to face him, a sunny smile on her face. “No, not harlots, although such a word is not a befitting descriptor for the sex that birthed all of us, including the Blessed Christ Child, is it?” 

Yet again, Sir Oliver found his mental processes muddied, yet this time by Lady Felicity’s most shocking ideas. “Lady Felicity,” he said, trying to gather some measure of control. “Might we now discuss the location of the Grail, as the beacon over this castle would indicated is present within these walls?”

Her face fell, her expression one of such utter sadness and disappointment that Sir Oliver felt quite a pang at causing her smile to fly away. “By my troth, I am most grieved by your question, Sir Oliver. For the Grail does not lie within this castle. Only we ladies lay here.” She frowned, her lips puckering slightly. “Or is it the Grail does not lay here and only we lie here?” With a heavy sigh, she smiled shyly at him. “I find English such a difficult language. I do not suppose you speak French? Or Latin? I express myself much more freely in those tongues.” 

He nearly shuddered at the thought of her tongue being freer than it already was. “Forgive me, my lady, yet I fear I studied with four different excellent tutors, yet none of them could teach me languages.” 

“Ah, well, you had other things to learn, of course,” Lady Felicity said, smiling at him. “Like sword fighting, and using--is that a bow and arrow?” Her forehead wrinkled in a manner that was most becoming to her. 

“Yes, Lady Felicity,” he said, feeling the urge to boast and only barely holding it back, remembering his vow of purity. “Might we return to the subject of the Grail? Your beacon was so clearly that which has been foretold as a herald of the Grail’s resting place . . .” 

Distractedly, Lady Felicity wrung her hands. “Oh, Sir Oliver, do forgive us. In truth, you must forgive Thea. For she is a naughty, wicked girl, who has been known to light our beacon from time to time for mischievous purposes. As our beacon is Grail-shaped, this is not the first time we have had brave, pure knights like yourself arrive at our doorstep.” She frowned, looking both sad and frustrated. “Oh, Thea! She is so utterly sinful!”

“Might I meet her?” Roy asked, only for Sir Oliver to shove him back. 

Giving Roy a gentle smile, Lady Felicity shook her head. “I am afraid that Thea must be punished. Perhaps your servant might deal with Thea, Sir Oliver, while you and I might discuss how we here at Castle Anthrax might repay you for your troubles. This castle is so far away from all civilization, leaving us ladies quite sheltered and innocent. Yet we must compensate you.” 

Sir Oliver swallowed. “All of you?” he asked, making a show of looking around. Yet in truth, he had eyes for no one but Lady Felicity. Her shining light put him in mind of the Holy Grail, of the innumerable stories about that most sacred of relics that bespoke its pure, shining glow of divineness. 

“Yes, Sir Oliver. We here at Castle Anthrax have but one way to satisfy a debt,” Lady Felicity said innocently. “You must take one of us, and tie her down most firmly. And then . . .”

“And then?” he asked, hanging on her every word. 

Her smile was utterly guileless as she said, “And then, you must spank her.”

_Spank her?_

Even the most pure and holy of men would react when a woman such as Lady Felicity made such an offer. Such a tempting, impure, delightful offer. For he knew he would choose no other but Lady Felicity for such compensation. 

Wait. No. He should not be entertaining such thoughts, even if Lady Felicity had perhaps the most perfectly-shaped bottom he had ever beheld, one seemingly designed by God Himself to be slapped lightly and then firmly, before the stings were smoothed and stroked away, in preparation for another kind of stroking. One more internal. 

God above, what manner of evil seduction was this? Sir Oliver took a step towards her and leaned down, nearly grimacing at how his movements made parts of his body chafe. “Forgive me, Lady Felicity, yet you could not have said . . . ?” 

“A good spanking, that is the recompense we offer, Sir Oliver,” Lady Felicity said. “Yes, you must spank one of us quite hard indeed, which should be an easy task for you, for you appear quite strong and very manly and I’m sure whomever you choose will offer herself up to your punishment most readily.” She paused and Sir Oliver didn’t know whether to brace himself for more words of damnable delight or for a bolt of lightning to strike him down for his most base and unholy thoughts. 

“And then comes the oral sex,” Lady Felicity said, folding her hands in front of her. “We really must insist, in order to ease your burden.” 

Roy snickered and clapped Sir Oliver on his shoulder. “You don’t know the half of his burden, lady.” 

“Roy, in God’s name, be quiet!” Sir Oliver muttered, attempting to keep his mind from crafting more images. Yet it was a futile quest, as futile as his vow and his quest for the Holy Grail. For his mind had always been exceedingly visual, needing little stimulation to create vivid images. And Lady Felicity had provided a most tempting stimulus to his mind. 

And in spite of all that he had become, he was at base still a man. His desires were still present, even though he had attempted to bury them down deep inside himself. He had spent years forging himself into Christ’s weapon and servant, yet it took only a few words from this blonde angel to make him want to throw all that away. To let himself fall into her body--and perhaps, he realized to his surprise, into her heart as well. 

Yet he thought this quest to love this woman might be a more holy pursuit than tracking the cup that had gathered the shed blood of his Lord and Saviour. 

“Sir Oliver?” Lady Felicity asked, gazing up at him. 

“Lady Felicity,” he began, his voice sounding higher-pitched than normal. “I would seek your company.” 

Her eyelids fluttered, her long lashes brushing against her cheeks, as she looked staggered. Sir Oliver stepped forward, convinced she was ready to swoon, when the sound of banging and then a few crashes split the air. 

Turning, Sir Oliver felt his heart sink when he spied Sir Quentin, Sir Thomas and Sir John. “Sir Oliver!” Sir John said, striding forward and grabbing his arm. “You are needed! We ride for Camelot!” 

Sir Thomas looked around, his expression awestruck. “Must we, though? Camelot is a silly place. Not like this place.”

“But, Sir John--” Sir Oliver said, throwing a look at Lady Felicity. She stepped forward, resting a hand on Sir Oliver’s shoulder and making him once again curse the need for armor to so closely follow the line of the body. 

“But Sir Oliver has not received his recompense!” Lady Felicity cried out. 

“Lady, he don’t need no recompense that you’re dishing out,” Sir Quentin snarled, drawing his sword. The ladies all gasped and Sir John gave Sir Quentin a look. It was enough for Sir Quentin to sheathe his sword, a sour look on his face. 

Sir John tugged on Sir Oliver’s arm. “Come, now, Sir Oliver. This situation is too perilous.”

“I disagree,” Sir Oliver said. “I can handle the peril!”

“Listen to the man,” Roy piped up, as Sir Thomas nodded in agreement.

“Think of your vow, man!” Sir John said, sending one of his quelling looks towards Roy and Sir Thomas. He began dragging Sir Oliver away, with Sir Quentin on their right and trailed by Roy and Sir Thomas. 

Lady Felicity somehow kept pace, her sweet voice rising into a near-shout. “Oh, let him stay!” 

“Yes, let me stay! I cannot leave these ladies undefended!” Sir Oliver protested, glancing yet again at Lady Felicity.

“No, Sir Oliver, the risk is too great,” Sir John said, pulling him faster. 

As Sir John removed him from Castle Anthrax, Sir Oliver’s last glimpse of Lady Felicity was of her standing at the head of the ladies, her hands balled on her hips. She called out loudly, “This is my life and my choice!” And then, the door swung shut, sealing Lady Felicity away from him. 

After that, Sir Oliver could not help finding his quest had paled. And he could not help wondering that if he died in battle whether his heaven would be one that held Lady Felicity.

End.


End file.
